Mad Minerva McGonagall
by The Smiling Crow
Summary: Minerva McGonagall has gained the reputation as the strictest teacher of Hogwarts (next to Snape). She tolerates no nonsense or pranks of any kind. But what was she like before? And what happens when by an accident, they get that McGonagall back? How will modern Hogwarts deal with the most notorious student of all; Mad Minerva McGonagall. T for swearing.
1. Chapter 1

I don't own Harry Potter. Nor am I British… well, I'm 1/8 Welsh, but I'm not sure if that counts…

Anyway, still own nothing.

-Crow

* * *

The day at Hogwarts was similar to all others. Harry Potter and his friends Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger walked around discussing Professor Lupin's last lesson on Grindylows.

Despite the very brisk, comfortable autumn day outside, the air was tense from news of Sirius Black and the chill of the dementors was just outside the castle. Students could be heard whispering about the latest Black sighting getting closer and closer to Hogwarts and a few who had their suspicions eyed Harry as they said them. After all, the man killed his parents, the son must have been his unfinished business.

The trio made their way up to the Trelawny's Tower and closed the trapdoor as the bell tolled for the class to begin. With a rush of a bead curtain, the insect-like teacher seemingly drifted about the room "mysteriously" (though, Hermione suspected the "wavy" and unsteady walk was related to the overbearing scent of gin).

"Good morning, class." She murmured. "Today we shall be reading tea leaves in conjunction with smoke from incense sticks. Please light your incense with a match, no wands."

The class rummaged for the box of matches at each table. The purebloods could be seen and heard snapping the matches and scowling. All of the muggleborns and half-bloods had their incense burning in no time, more familiar with matches. Hermione helped Ron light his after he broke his fifth one clean in half.

Pretty soon, everyone had a small stick of incense giving off swirling patterns of smoke (though a great many of the purebloods in the class had their wands hidden and mumbled the incantation under their breaths). Trelawny ignored these and began intoning again.

"Excellent. Now, the ancients used smoke and various herbs in their divination and saw patterns in the smoke that would give visions of what was to come. I want all of you to calm your mind and breathe the smoke slowly." She calmly walked over to a small teapot whistling in the corner over a small bluebell flame.

Harry decided against inhaling the smoke as he saw Ron grinning dopily along with everyone else who blindly followed the instructions. Hermione muttered about 'complete rubbish', 'illegal', and 'drugging the students'. He was brought back by Ron suddenly putting a hand on his shoulder and shaking it.

"Hey, Harry."

"What?"  
"Hey, hey, Harry. Harry. No…yeah, Harry."

"What is it, Ron?"

"Oh… uh, I forgot… wait! I remembered now! You're m-my b-best friend, you know that, mate?" Ron started slurring his words as he swayed back and forth.

"Uh, yeah. I guess." Harry was completely out of his comfort zone. What do you say to someone higher than Big Ben?

"No, no. I wanna grow old with you in evr'y way."

He grabbed Harry's robes and pulled him close to whisper. "In every way."

"Ronald," Hermione said firmly. The redhead let go of the stunned Boy-Who-Lived and shifted his gaze blearily to the bushy-haired witch. "If sand is little pieces of rock, does that make rock big pieces of sand?"

"Woah…" The youngest Weasley son sat in dumbfounded thought as his eyes went completely out of focus.

Harry was impressed. "Hermione, where'd you learn that?"

"My cousin once came to our Aunt's house high." She admitted sheepishly. "He went philosophical and was occupied for an hour."

Trelawny soon came back with a steaming pot of loose-leaf tea and poured it into everyone's cups. She beamed at Ron. "There! Look how relaxed and in tune with the Universe he is!"

"Yer right, Mrs. Mantis. I feel all the swirly-whirly timey-whimey stuff of the universe." The high third-year slurred.

"Hmm. You may need more time, dear. The timey-whimey stuff is more wibbly-wobbly, not swirly-whirly." The divination teacher moved on calmly as though she'd just done nothing less common than commenting on the weather.

Harry and Hermione shared a meaningful glance and returned to their cups. Harry absentmindedly swirled his cup and saw blotch after blotch after blotch. Referring to his textbook, none of them seemed to be right. Was the squiggly one death or insanity?

He barely looked into his cup before Trelawny snatched it up and inspected the inside of it. He sighed, expecting the usual ominous death prediction, but was surprised by a calm "hmm."

He waited expectantly as she kept peering deeply into his cup of tea. Hermione eventually let out a large sigh and spoke. "Professor, is it the Grim or not?"

The Divination teacher was brought out of her musings and handed the cup back to Harry. "No, my dear. Actually quite the contrary. Your leaves say you will meet someone old in a new way very soon."

The class (those that weren't tripping out) was startled that Trelawny didn't automatically predict instantaneous death.

"Though it did say you will meet a Hellion."

The class relaxed. Even though it was slightly deviated, the message still carried; you're as good as dead. All was right in the unstable world of Trelawney.

The mantis-like woman peered into the cup and jolted suddenly. Those who caught it heard her mumble. "Oh, God. I'd better hide my sherry."

* * *

"Ready Gred?"

"'Course Forge."

The two redheaded twins exchanged something under their desk all while looking ahead as if still interested in the lesson. McGonagall had her back to them, so it was the perfect time to pull it off. They'd worked for weeks making what looked like a small bicycle horn with feet and a clockwork key. Essentially, it was a loud distraction on the go.

Fred carefully wound the small mechanism and set it on the floor. The gyros started whirring and the device waddled away towards the Slytherins in the group.

They watched out of the corner of their eye as the device started slowing down, prepping for phase II. The bulb on the end inflated slightly as if it were sucking in a breath.

Then-

A horn's bulb kept inflating and deflating and it waddled around wildly, but in complete silence. Confused, the twins watched their invention wind down completely and go still.

They were suddenly aware of the entire class's eyes either on them or-

The troublesome duo felt the hair on the back of their neck stand up. Slowly, they turned around to the piercing gaze of Professor McGonagall. Her wand out and still pointed where the device would have gone off.

"While I do encourage the imaginative innovation you two have, I'm not as keen on having your inventions disrupt my class. Am I understood?" She said.

The twins nodded and she turned away, but flicked her wand at the prank and it rose onto their desks, where they promptly put it away.

Using the patented Weasley Twins Wireless, they "talked" to each other with a series of facial messages perfected over the years.

_How do you reckon she knew?_

_ Your guess is as good as mine. Why'd she give it back?_

_ No idea, brother._

They decided to pay attention to the rest of the class. Despite their reputation, they were pretty smart. However, no one noticed until almost five minutes before class that a Slytherin pureblood supremist, Mordecai Chasting, had been silently ranting; hit by the same silencing charm that had silenced the horn.

When Pandora Smite finally noticed her betrothed's arms flailing for her attention, she watched his crude gestures to his mouth and seemingly pantomiming shouting… wait, he _was_ shouting. She raised her hand. "Professor! Professor! Someone's hit Mordecai with a curse!"

The Transfiguration teacher turned and saw the boy red in the face from silently shouting for the past half an hour. "Ah, I apologize Mr. Chasting, I must have hit you as well as the horn with that silencing spell."

She waved her wand and the air was quickly filled with heavy, exasperated panting and dark muttering. The elder witch turned around quickly so no one noticed a small smirk.

* * *

The Golden Trio walked onwards to the dungeons. Even though it was difficult going from the top level of a tower to the dungeons of the castle, they knew Snape wouldn't care.

The arrived just as the bell tolled. Snape eyed the group disappointed that he couldn't take off for being late. Still, he had an entire hour to do so. He could wait.

"The instructions are on the board," He flicked his wand and the writing appeared. "The ingredients are in the cupboard," the doors opened, "you have one hour, begin."

The students immediately set out starting the fires beneath their cauldrons and preparing the ingredients. The subtle fumes started making a miniature cloud layer in the dungeon and the rhythmic chopping and scraping of ingredients on cutting boards was the only sound in the entire dungeon. Snape strode around, eagerly waiting for one of the Gryffindors to screw up while calmly making corrections to the Slytherin counterpart.

The course was interrupted as Professor McGonagall walked in, her lips pressed into a line. "Severus! This has to stop! That is the tenth first year student that has come crying to my office this week! And it's Tuesday!"

Snape sneered back at the strict elderly woman. "It's hardly my fault if they cannot brew a proper potion to save their lives."

"It _is_ your fault because you're the one who's _supposed_ to teach them! And you're supposed to do it in a way that does not scare them to quivering collections of catatonia!" She argued back.

The two continued their argument as the potions continued brewing. Snape was so engrossed in the discussion, he neglected that his most accident-prone student, Neville Longbottom, was nervously chopping his Gurdyroots the wrong way and added the crocodile tears at the wrong time. Subsequently, he also missed his godson, Draco, smirking as he tossed a small strip of goat leather into the poor Gryffindor's cauldron.

Neville, continued nervously adding ingredient after ingredient, his worry increasing as the potion started looking less and less like their Amnesia Draught. Instead of a green-blue like the book said, or even somewhere in the region of green-blue as half the class was in, his cauldron's contents were a bright shade of magenta.

He added the ambrosia extract to the bubbling solution and waited for any color changes. He sighed in extreme relief when the solution turned a rich violet like the book described… but frowned as the solution quickly turned to an ectoplasmic green… then backed away as it turned a volatile red.

At the signal of the patented Longbottom-Shout-of-Failure, everyone dropped below their desk to avoid the inevitable. Snape ducked behind the closest desk on reflex which left a poor, confused McGonagall wondering what happened and she turned around just in time for the cauldron to explode and drench her with the potion.

Neville almost fainted at the sight of his Head of House covered in his failed potion, and stammered out apologies before a glare from Snape shut him up. "Minerva, are you quite alright?" He asked. To the absolute shock of the class, it was almost… concerned.

"Y-yes, Severus… I- I think I… I…" The class gasped as the elderly Transfiguration teacher fainted and Snape caught her in his arms. The potions master quickly conjured a stretcher and levitated it with Professor McGonagall to the infirmary. He instructed an early let-out and gave several detentions to a still-upset Neville.

* * *

Within the hour, the entire school was buzzing about the news. Some speculated that McGonagall was poisoned by the faulty potion while several Slytherins jeered that she died which did nothing to help Neville's nerves.

In the Hospital Wing, Professor McGonagall was laid on a bed as Madame Pomfrey ran her wand to diagnose what had happened. Snape stood up anxiously when she put her wand away.

"Well?" He demanded.

"The potion doesn't seem to be lethal. She's in no danger that I can tell, but that potion is working on something. Unfortunately, I have no idea what it will do. We'll just have to wait it out and see what happens."

The potions master sighed in partial relief at the news that one of the better teachers at Hogwarts hadn't met her untimely demise in his classroom. He quickly left the Infirmary with Madame Pomfrey in tow to Professor Dumbledore's Office.

The aged Headmaster rushed to the infirmary after hearing the report from Poppy and Severus. He hoped the effects wouldn't be too terrible on Minerva. She was a very loyal Deputy and a great help when it came to the day-to-day running of the school.

"Now, you're sure she's alright?" He asked for the fifth time.

"Yes, though I still want to have an observation around her for the next few hours to see if anything happens." Poppy confirmed.

Dumbledore sighed in exhaustion. He had been around at Hogwarts for decades now. Even though the Headmastership was just in the past 50 years, he had been the Transfiguration Professor for 30 years prior after he'd settled down from research and exploration. In his time, he could remember almost every student that passed under the Sorting Hat. From Mr. Potter to Tom Riddle to Severus Snape. He could remember every single one, though Minerva McGonagall stuck out above the rest. For some reason, he could almost swear he heard…

He stopped just at the stairwells. He _was_ hearing something. He located the source quickly and peered up the long staircase at a figure riding the rail. He jolted as a sudden Post-Traumatic Flashback shook him to his core.

_But that was… wasn't it… no…_ He frantically thought. His normally-brilliant mind short-circuiting wildly.

His thoughts were cut off as a blur of fiery red hair flew past shouting "WOOOOOOO-HOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

* * *

The Great Hall sat calmly at lunch, the murmurings of the day mostly about Professor McGonagall and any news. All conversations stopped shortly after a large BANG! was heard outside the door, followed by several thumps and a loud cat screech (several students later found out that was Mrs. Norris).

The doors flew open and revealed a young, 16 year old witch with bright red hair that almost put the Weasley family to shame. Her emerald robes fit rather snugly against her and a matching pointed hat was tilted on her head. She twirled her wand in her hand as she strode in.

But the mysterious girl stopped suddenly and looked around in confusion. She spoke with a faint Scottish brogue. "Who the bloody f*ck are you people?"

Several students were taken aback at her language and the Professors at the Head Table were almost ready to take off points… except they had no idea who she was let alone what house she was in.

Her arrival was shortly followed by a flushed Albus Dumbledore, a confused Poppy, and a poker-faced Snape. The girl turned around and smiled at Dumbledore. "Holy Hell, Professor, how'd you get so old?"

The winded Headmaster didn't get to reply before Snape angrily spoke. "That is no way to talk to a Headmaster, young lady. Even then, I can't imagine how many points you've lost your house; riding on stair rails, causing massive school property damage, endangering the life of a cat-!"

"Oi! I skidded so I missed the beastie!" The hotheaded witch retorted, the accent becoming more pronounced.

"Have you any respect for the school rules?" He replied.

"Nope." She popped the "p" very deliberately.

An incensed potions master looked ready to kill the girl, but Professor Sprout quickly decended from the Head table to intervene. "Now Severus, I'm sure we can deal with everything later, at the moment, we still have no idea who our mysterious guest is. My dear, would you care to introduce yourself?"

The redhead grinned. "Allow me to oblige, ma'am. I am the Queen of Chaos! The Madame of Mischief! The Redheaded Rebel! For all your rule-breaking needs;

Mad Minnie McGonagall, at your service!"

* * *

AN: Yes, that was a Dr. Who reference. 'Blink' was one of Tenant's best, in my opinion. The "rock and sand" thing was from a philosoraptor meme.

Also, the "in every way" was supposed to be from D*ck Figures if anyone caught it.

I know McGonagall is supposed to have black hair, but for some reason, I just see the younger version of McGonagall (at least my version) as having bright red hair, or at least reddish-brown hair (think Pixar's Brave, but with less curls… oh, I think I found where this Scottish, rule-breaking redheaded McGonagall came from). I got inspired for it from a deviantart picture for a young Minerva McGonagall.

I hope you enjoyed.

Until next time.

-Crow


	2. Chapter 2

I don't own Harry Potter

I just realized, I uploaded these two chapters on April Fool's Day... huh. I swear that was unintentional, but it works out. After all, this is my April Fool's torture on the students and staff of Hogwarts; courtesy of the most notorious prankster and troublemaker to walk the halls. Bwahahaha!

-Crow

* * *

The Great Hall was in stunned silence. A random, young, (and admittedly attractive) girl waltzes in, Hell on her heels and claims to be their currently bed-ridden Transfiguration teacher.

Professor Flitwick was the first to recover. "I'm sorry, did you say Minnie? Like Minerva?"

The redhead scowled at the name. "Aye, that's the name my lousy da gave me. I hate it. Call me Min or Minnie, instead."

While the entire student population was muttering, Snape wasn't convinced. "Ms. Whatever-your-name-is, if you don't stop this nonsense and tell us who you are, we'll get the aurors involved."

Minnie's head swiveled to look directly at the Potions professor and visibly recoiled. "Oh, God! And just what the Hell are _you_? Ya look like some overgrown bat!"

Snape's forehead revealed a large blood vessel that was on par with Vernon Dursley. He ground out through clenched teeth. "I am the Potions Master here at Hogwarts, you insolent brat."

The girl's face showed genuine confusion. "Potions Master? What do ya mean? What happened to Professor Brewer?"

The Hall muttered at the unfamiliar name and Snape allowed his eyes to narrow slightly. Anthony Brewer was a renowned Potions Master for his time, but he had taught back in the 1940s and had long since died before Slughorn had taken the post. Dumbledore gathered enough breath and wits to start speaking again. "Ah, my dear, I'll explain everything to you. Would you please follow us to my office?"

"Sure Professor, just let me grab something really quick." She snatched an apple from the Ravenclaw table and munched on it as she followed the Dungeon Bat, the Healer, and the Headmaster to his office.

They got in front of the stone gargoyle and Minnie raised an eyebrow at the password "Lemon Popsicles", but followed them up.

When they got to the Headmaster's office, she got slightly nervous. "Professor Dumbledore? Why are we here? I thought you said we'd go to your office, not Professor Dippet's."

A small snort came from a portrait on the wall, which roused itself from sleeping after hearing its subject's name called. It looked blearily at the room before sobering at the sight of a redheaded terror that plagued him until his retirement… and probably encouraged it sooner.

"Minerva McGonagall!" He exclaimed. "What in the blue blazes are you doing here?! No, wait. That can't be… no…"

He relaxed in the rationality that it was a look-alike until the witch replied. "Don't worry, Professor Dippet, I haven't done anything… yet."

The familiar voice and tone of impending mischief was enough to send the portrait into a dead faint. The girl snickered at the reaction and Dumbledore calmly smiled.

The wizened wizard walked over to his fireplace and gave the MediWitch in the room a small pot of ash. "Madame Pomfrey, could you please go visit the Hospital Wing at once to see how… the most recent patient has been?"

The confused Healer complied and returned a few seconds later ashen. "I'm afraid she's gone, Headmaster."

Dumbledore nodded, his eyes betraying the rapid thought process, but was interrupted by a surprised shout. "Wait, _you're_ the Headmaster now_?_"

The three adults turned to the 16-year-old Minerva McGonagall. Dumbledore wondered what was the best way to go about this, but Snape beat him to the punch.

"Yes he is, and it would seem that you are, in fact, Minerva McGonagall." He drawled.

"Well of course I'm Minerva McGonagall, ya daft loon! And don't call me Minerva!" She retorted.

"Ah, Severus, let me handle this." Dumbledore said. The irate potioneer stepped back, allowing the Headmaster to clear his throat. "You see, Ms. McGonagall, there's been a rather… unusual occurrence."

He paused… this was harder than he initially thought. "You see… what year is it?"

Minnie had to laugh at the sudden, random question. "Wow, Professor. You're getting senile early. It's 1952."

Dumbledore smiled sadly. "No, my dear. I'm afraid the year and date is actually October 1993."

The young witch frowned. "You're pulling my leg, aren't ya?"

He shook his head solemnly. "No, I'm afraid that an accident has made you forget everything up until that year as well as brought you back to your appearance at that time."

"My… appearance… at… that…" Her eyes widened at the realization. "I'M OLD! OH LORD, I'M AN OLD SACK OF BONES IN A WRINKLY, LEATHER BAG!"

She slumped in a chair in shock and Snape snickered quietly at her reaction. After a few minutes of silence, the old-witch-turned-young weakly asked. "Did I go gray or bald altogether?"

Dumbledore smiled. "No, actually, every hair is still on your head and for the most part, your hair is black, not gray."

"Black? I dye my hair black? Oh, Lord, future me, what were ya thinking?" She returned to her staring at the ceiling in contemplation. Fawkes hummed a softly in the background, sensing the tension.

Dumbledore let the phoenix's song calm her for a few seconds before restarting the conversation. "Well, my dear, we must deal with the task at hand."

"Which is?"

Dumbledore paused. How would he say they needed her back to her old self… key word _old_. From her reaction, she didn't seem too keen on it. "Er, your accommodations at the moment."

Minerva shrugged her shoulders. "Just send me back to Gryffindor. I know the place well enough."

Dumbledore nodded. It was a good start. "Well, in regards to your classes…"

Inspiration struck!

"Actually, as I recall, you were apprenticed to a Transfiguration Master, were you not?"

The young witch raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I finalized it last summer… or at least that's how it feels."

The Headmaster nodded. It was good enough. "You see, I'm afraid we've found ourselves quite suddenly without a Transfiguration professor."

Snape looked incensed at this, but Dumbledore raised a hand to stop anything rash from being said. "You will still be able to live in the Gryffindor Dormitory, but I will allow you to take up the post temporarily."

She thought it over for a moment. "Will I get paid?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Yes, my dear. I will ensure a full teacher's salary as well as all teacher's privileges-" He stopped and slid into a Thousand-Mile Stare.

_Bathrooms flooded._

_ The Restricted Section in flames._

_ Peeves running for his afterlife._

_ A centaur galloping down the halls and a horde of dinner-plate-sized acromantula from Merlin-Knows-Where with Minerva McGonagall on the saddled centaur shouting "Charge!"_

"… actually, we'll restrict some of those teacher privileges."

* * *

The Great Hall at dinner was still murmuring about the events that transpired. Classes were cancelled for the rest of the day, so students gossiped in the halls and library for the remainder of the evening.

Neville didn't know which to feel at the moment; relieved that he hadn't committed accidental murder, upset that he'd nearly killed his Head of House, or astonished that his potion did _that_ of all things.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat around him helping him get out of his slump.

"Come on, mate. It's not that bad. Hell, that's wicked and probably going in the history books." Ron encouraged.

Neville shrugged sadly. "I guess, but still what if I killed her. What if that potion had actually killed her. I'd be no better than a murderer… no better than Bella…"

The Trio noticed him shift out of focus, but didn't press who "Bella" was. Hermione spoke softly to calm the nervous wizard. "My grandfather used to tell me that there was really no point in looking back on the past and worrying about a possible outcome. It's in the past and nothing you can do can change it. Even if you went back in time, you couldn't change a thing. It's just how the universe works."

She fingered a small, gold pendant around her neck at the last bit but quickly tucked it away when she realized what she was doing.

Neville nodded. "Yeah, I guess…"

Harry saw a slight bit of headway and pressed on it. "Okay, so you made a mistake and that is in the past and is done. So what now?"

The shy boy was startled by the question, but gave some thought before answering. "I… I guess I should… just… work on my potions so it doesn't happen again?"

Hermione beamed. "That's a start! I'll help you, Neville! I found this wonderful book in the restricted section. It's loads better than whatever Professor Snape could offer. I…"

The other two zoned out after the last sentence. They'd been around her long enough to know there was no way getting around her when she was like this.

Hermione's list of recommended texts was cut short by another BANG! as the doors to the Great Hall slammed open once more. A much better-looking Dumbledore was smiling as he strode in next to a still-surly Snape and the girl who called herself McGonagall strode confidently in the front.

The two teachers and former-teacher walked to the front of the hall and Dumbledore raised a hand to call everyone's attention.

"Attention, please. I have an announcement." He said calmly. Any muttering ceased. "I wish to inform everyone that Ms. McGonagall is, for the time being, staying with us. She has agreed to take up the Transfiguration post that we all know has just recently opened up." He smiled good-naturedly. "However, she has agreed to take up residence in her old house, Gryffindor. I hope you will welcome her with open arms and make her stay pleasant."

He sat down at the Head Table and dinner was sent up by the House Elves. Meanwhile, Minerva was scoping out her old House's table. She finally seemed to settle on something and strode confidently to the Gryffindor table and taking the nearest seat…

To the Weasley Twins.

Dumbledore's face paled again.

"Oh, sweet, merciful Merlin."

* * *

AN: Minerva's "I'M OLD" rant was so funny to listen to in an Irish/Scottish accent (Relax anyone from Scotland or Ireland, I know they're really different).

Until next time

-Crow


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Warning, one quote of biblical stuff. Atheists and non-Christians have been warned, do not flame me about quoting the bible. Christians, do not flame me for probably botching up quoting the bible.**

I don't own Harry Potter, the songs that come up in this chapter, nor Mickey Mouse. Trust me, if I _did_ own anything at all, you guys would be the first to know.

-Crow

* * *

Minerva McGonagall looked over the sea of unfamiliar students. She didn't know any of them, so she just used her instincts to pick out their personalities. The platinum blonde at Slytherin was probably a mommy's boy while screaming for daddy whenever times got tough. Anyone else in Slytherin looked like a gorilla managed to get into their "pureblood breeding program". In her day, 90% of Slytherins still looked relatively human and attractive and had enough wits in their heads to pull off a decent prank when asked. So much for that "Slytherin cunning" for her plans. The Hufflepuffs were their usual self; loyal and trustworthy. She respected that, but it was useless when dealing with pranksters. Ravenclaws were too wrapped up in their books to be any real use besides occasional research buddies.

That left her beautiful, wonderful, rambunctious House of Lions.

She let her eyes wander over her old table. She saw dots of bright red hair scattered throughout the years. She remembered this one guy back in her years at Hogwarts… what was his name? Wendell? Wess? Wesley? Wensleydale?

She quickly focused back at the task at hand. The firsties, second-years, and third-years were pretty much out in terms of any meaningful conversation. The seventh years were dominated by one of the red-headed Wensleydales whose nose was so high up in the air with "authority", she was surprised birds didn't clip it while in mid-flight.

Seeing the comfortable medium between fourth and sixth years, she spotted two more dots of red.

_Twins! That sounds promising_.

Zoning in on them, she grinned as she picked out the keystone features.

Impish smiles. Check.

Teachers casting wary gazes on occasion. Check.

Secret twin-communication. Check.

Eyes glittering while analyzing the crap out of anything that could/would/should become a prank.

Double Check!

Confident in her decision, she strode over to the table to sit right down next to them. Out of curiosity, she glanced up at the head table.

Seeing Professor Dumbledore's face whiter than a vampire mean she'd chosen well. She didn't see what he mumbled out, but could tell he would probably be drinking some of his secret stash of Muggle Irish whiskey tonight.

She looked back down at the table around her. The students were staring at her unashamedly and she silently raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"Hey." She turned to find both of the twins looking directly at her. "What was up with all that 'Mistress of Mischief' stuff?"

"What does it sound like? I'm the greatest prankster to have ever walked the halls of Hogwarts."

The twins looked at each other in sync. _Yep, definitely a twin-link_. Minerva grinned. _Always useful_.

"That's debatable." One started.

"There were the Marauders of Hogwarts-" The other began.

"And then there're Lee Jordan and ourselves."

"I'd say we could put that title-"

"In jeopardy."

"Even then,-"

"If you _were_ the greatest-"

"How come we've never heard of you?" They finished the last phrase in sync.

"They kept records of all of my pranks, but had to keep them hidden. Too many students tried to repeat them when my records weren't under lock and key." She replied smugly.

The twins shared looks of disbelief, coupled with a glint of mischief. "I highly doubt that, miss."

She knew where this was heading, but wanted it no other way. "Oh, what-ever do ya mean?" She simpered with an aura of false innocence.

"We bet you-"

"That we could _easily_ prove to you-"

"That in all the years you've been gone-"

"The noble and ancient art of pranking-"

"Has really upped the ante." They finished in sync.

"Oh? And what did ye have in mind?" She asked, grinning like the cat that got the canary.

"A good old-fashioned prank war." They replied in sync. Around them, the table got deathly quiet. The clock tower tolled ominously.

"I accept." She replied.

The twins shared a smug look. "Although-"

"Really-"

"Honestly-"

"Truly-"

"We feel a bit reserved-"

"After all, it's only two to one-"

"And that one-"

"Is a girl." They finished together.

"Oh, trust me, lads, this lass be just fine on my own. When does it start?"

"We'll start now, if you want."

"Of course, you did go here years ago-"

"So we won't go full force-"

"Grandma." The two knew they scored when her eyebrow twitched, breaking her previously undefeated smirk. They'd never have gotten away with that with Professor McGonagall, but with Minnie McGonagall…

They watched as the attractive young woman stood up and made her way through a silent great hall. The entire school stopped talking as they listened to the exchange and began planning on ways to barricade doors.

The twins smirked as they watched her leave. They turned to each other to congratulate themselves-

They looked up at each other's once-fiery red hair to find it salmon pink. They looked down and found their small part of the feast on their plates had been replaced with maggot-infested potatoes. Dumbstruck, they tried to get up from the bench, only to find their entire section of bench moved along with them, now temporarily stuck to their rumps.

Off-balanced by the weight of the bench, they toppled over onto themselves, sending food, drink, and a few maggots scattered onto them. Groaning, they turned to see the red-headed devil leaning against the door frame.

Her chuckle chilled even Professor Snape. "Ya know, my da's a minister for the church. I never paid much attention to his sermons, but one quote really stuck out ya know?"

She turned around and walked as she quoted, slowly dragging the door behind with her.

"I looked, and behold, there was a pale horse and the rider's name was Death, and Hell followed in her wake."

The doors closed with small *bang* that echoed in the silent hall.

Dumbledore shivered as he felt the Elder wand twitch.

* * *

That evening, Minerva went to the Gryffindor common room to find a new bed placed in the girl's common room. She approached it and smirked as she raised the bed sheets to find a large collection of wiggling worms underneath.

She waved her wand over them and vanished them with a specific location in mind. Satisfied, she _scourgified_ any residue left over and snuggled in as she listened to the wonderful lullaby of two redheaded twins finding out where she vanished their "gift".

* * *

Breakfast was abuzz with nervous excitement. Minnie walked in that morning with a bottle of shampoo and an easy-going grin. She approached the twins before squirting the hair product onto both of their heads. They were too stunned to do anything save look at her.

"While admirable that ye'd try to get revenge for your pink hair, it's never wise to meddle with a lass's hair." She swaggered out the Great Hall after snatching up an apple. "Oh, and for the time being Transfiguration class is cancelled until I can get myself situated."

The cheers of a few students were almost completely drowned out by the shrieks of the twins as they wiped away the shampoo to find their hair had left as well.

* * *

Dinner that evening was tense. So far, the twins had been hit with every jinx and hex known to the student population, along with a few others that had gone out of fashion that students didn't know about. What made matters worse, every time they were hit, they couldn't pin it on Minerva. No one knew how she managed to hit them with a Jelly Legs Jinx when she was seen walking around the library on the opposite side of school at the same time.

One hex grew hair at an alarming rate, so their lovely red-headed locks were back before lunch… only about 9 feet longer than usual.

Fred and George were hunched over their food, paranoid that it might be poisoned. They even stole Scabbers earlier that day to test a few scraps on.

They turned to each other and opened the Weasley Wireless.

_How do you think she does it, Fred?_

_No clue, George. All I know is that she's pranked us more in the past 24 hours than we've pranked anyone all year._

_Well, it is autumn, dear brother. The year is still young._

_George, be serious for a moment! I know it's against our code, but I honestly think we're a bit out of our league here!_

_Fred, she's a girl! She'll fall for those shrinking hexes we managed to put in her panties. Remember, we timed them for about now. Just watch, any second now, she'll be screaming because her underpants aren't going to fit a doll anymore._

Fred, albeit reluctantly, turned to look directly into the devious smile of Minerva McGonagall.

He really didn't like that smile.

And why were his underpants getting so uncomfortable.

* * *

"AAAUUUUUGHHHHHH! MY MANHOOD!"

* * *

Minnie snickered as several people kept getting the wrong impression as both Fred and George started rolling around, clutching their crotch, and screaming in higher and higher octaves as their own shrinking undergarments practically crushed their-

"Minerva?"

She looked up from the display to see Professor Dumbledore eying her. Over the years, she'd managed to gain immunity to the I'm-really-disappointed-in-you-right-now Grandfather thing he had going on.

"Yes Professor?"

"I really must ask you not to cause such… inappropriate spectacles. Especially the kind that can cause rather… permanent damage." He said slowly.

She looked up innocently. "Well, Professor, it seemed only fair since they were originally going to do it to me before I swapped the curse."

Dumbledore sighed. She had a point. "Very well, could you at least _try_ to cause such spectacles in other locations? We do need to keep this rated Teen, especially for the first years."

"'Rated Teen', sir?"

"Ah, never mind. It's a muggle saying these days."

Minnie rolled her eyes before looking innocently back at her old Professor. "Very well, sir. I won't cause their lineage to end prematurely."

She got up and walked away calmly, briefly hopping over the prone and whimpering figures lying on the floor.

* * *

That night, the twins stayed up, speaking in hushed, high-pitched voices. Madame Pomfrey had asked they visit the hospital wing to fix any… "damages" that may have occurred (which were thankfully none), but they were still going to be speaking in disturbingly high-pitched voices for the rest of the night.

Already several muggleborn students asked them to say "Oh boy!", "Hello, everybody!" and "I'm Mickey Mouse." They were completely confused about whom exactly Mickey Mouse was, why the muggleborns were laughing, and whey they kept saying they both sounded exactly like the guy.

They'd argued back and forth about ways to get back at her, finally deciding to just cart her bed off to the lake tomorrow morning before everyone else woke up. The plan set, they pulled out a muggle alarm clock their dad gave them (the one thing that worked and wasn't enchanted from their dad's shed) and went to sleep.

* * *

_CH-RRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-_

_*chk*_

Fred opened his eyes as he felt his arm hit the stupid clapper on the alarm bell. He could hear his brother George yawning a few feet over.

It really was a shame they had to get up so early to prank McGonagall. He was having a pretty nice dream. They were on a boat in the sea and the waves were gently rocking them above the wa-

*SPLASH*

Fred turned his bleary, unfocused eyes in the direction of George's bed and heard coughing and sputtering. "Georgie? Whass goin' ooo-aaAAAAUUUGH!"

*SPLASH*

Wide awake, Fred scrambled to tread water as he looked around where they were. He quickly analyzed the situation.

George and he floating on water.

Their respective beds also floating on water.

The fact that there was water.

The fact that the castle was looming behind them in the glorious morning sun.

"DAAAMMMIIIIIT!"

* * *

"Ah, music to my ears." Minerva crowed, biting into a pear.

Neville was still confused. "What do you mean? And what was that scream?"

"Just a wee mornin' wake-up call I diverted, nothin' ta worry yourself with, laddie."

She left a confused bunch of Gryffindors as she sauntered out of the Great Hall moments before two irate, wet, redheaded twins burst in.

* * *

"George, I'm really starting to think we should stop while we're ahead."

"I know Freddie, but I'm not going to give up solely because McGonagall _thinks_ she's got the better of us. We'll get something on her yet." He promised.

"Yeah, but the waltzing curse in the corridors, tickling jinxes, the laxatives in the food! How the Hell did she even get muggle laxatives?!"

"Ugh, don't remind me." He said clutching his stomach.

"And now, I heard she was asking around the muggleborns for some ideas of a certain kind of song. I don't even know who "Tiny Tim" is?!"

"Isn't he from one of those muggle books?"

"Yeah, but he's not a musician."

"Well, what's the worst that coul-"

"NO."

"What?"

"Don't finish that."

"Oh, you mean-"

"No."

"I'm gonna do it."

"Don't you dare!"

"What's the worst that could happen." George said, splaying his arms out. Fred cowered behind a nearby statue, expecting the lightning bolt of the Universe to come crashing down upon his dear brother.

His curse of the Universe was supported as a small, quick owl dove in, dropped something and took off. Fred had, at one point, looked into some Muggle History books and found that the maneuver was disturbingly reminiscent to a certain flight pattern an American muggle airplane pilot was taught in order to deliver something called a "nuke" on Hiroshima and "get the Hell out of Dodge" as the Americans put it. He didn't look into what a "nuke" was, but it didn't seem friendly.

His eyes wandered over to the small item the owl dropped.

It was a very familiar item.

And George knew it too.

His dear twin was running in the opposite direction by the time the Howler message started burning at the edges and floating after him.

George got to the next corridor, but Fred could still here the magically amplified voice singing an unusual falsetto accompanied by some oddly jovial music.

"_Things that bother you, never bother me, I fell happy and fine! Haha! Living in the Sunlight, Loving in the Moonlight, having a wonderful time!_"

He was incredibly grateful to have avoided that one and didn't notice the second owl until it had already delivered its small, red envelope.

"_I'm Henry the eighth, I am. Henry the eighth I am, I am."_

* * *

By dinner, their howlers stopped their obnoxious songs. George's actually ran out sometime around 3 o' clock, but another Howler was promptly delivered with every verse of "100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall".

The two walked into the Great Hall, thoroughly exhausted.

They sat down at the table and took one sip of their pumpkin juice, too tired to care about what it was spiked with. In a quick *pop*, they sighed and looked at each other to see the effects.

"AAAUUUUGHHHH! MY MANHOOD!"

Minerva McGonagall swaggered up to the pair. "Ya know, I was thinkin' the other day. You two were right! Two boys against one girl was unfair. So I evened it out. One girl vs. two freshly-made-girls." She sniggered.

The twins only stared at the other gaping at how much they looked like an older version of their younger sister Ginny. They turned to see Minnie smirking. "Oh, I could leave the curse on ye for a good month or so, just to give ye an idea what fresh Hell we natural-girls get for a week once a month, but I'm feelin' generous. So, do ye give up?"

They shared one look before saying in sync.

"We surrender."

* * *

And so, Hogwarts annals took note that at 6:08 on the second Tuesday of October of 1993, the Weasley Twins acknowledged their relinquishing of the titles "Prankmasters of Hogwarts" to the new (and old) "Prankmistress of Hogwarts Minerva McGonagall".

* * *

Minerva McGonagall crept around the halls of Hogwarts to her empty dorm. Making sure the place was empty she called out. "Mipsy, Flopsy, Mopsy!"

Three *pops* answered her calls

She smiled back at her mischievous helpers. "I wanted to thank ya again for all of yer help."

"It was nothing, Miss McGonagall. Mipsy enjoyed it. Those rude twins always leave messes for us to clean, they do." The others nodded in consent. While most house elves liked Fred and George for visiting the kitchens directly, those were the cooking ones. The cleaning ones were the ones who had to take care of the confetti, the splotches, the messes, and the magic their pranks left behind on the floors, walls, and (sometimes) ceilings of Hogwarts.

Minnie curtseyed her thanks to the house elves once more before they popped back to their jobs.

* * *

That weekend Minnie took the two twins (thankfully re-acquainted with their Y-chromosomes) to a secluded section of the library.

George eyed his brother before turning a wary look at the girl who called them here. "Okay. The prank war is over, you know. Is this another trick?"

Minnie smiled genuinely. "No. To be honest, I've looked into ye two from the others. Ya've got spunk I'll give ya that and yer good at what ya do. So, as a reward for putting up with my pranks for the past week, I've decided to make ya my followers."

Fred faltered. "W-what exactly do you mean?" Visions of a new faction of brightly-colored death-eater-like costumes dedicated to pranking Britain and the Dark Lord filled his head.

"Nothin' much. I'm just goin' ta give ya some of my old stuff." She grinned before pulling a dusty book in the very corner of the room. The twins gaped as the bookshelf swung on its edge to reveal a dusty hidden passageway.

"B-b-but that's not even on the Map!" George sputtered.

"Map? What map?"

George mumbled evasively, but Minnie's scrutinizing gaze promised she'd weedle it out of them later. She lit her wand tip and led them down, casting a cleaning charm to brush away the cobwebs every few feet.

After a while, they arrived at a disused potions laboratory. A few dusty cauldrons were stacked in the corner. Some experimental runes were still on the chalkboard and a few ingredients in stasis were lined up on the shelves.

"Ah, good. It's still all here. I was worried my older self had gotten the place cleared out." She lit the torches with a quick _incendio_ before walking around.

The twins drank in a few loose leaflets lying around. "W-what is this place." Fred asked awestruck. The potions notes were precise, accurate, ingenious. A true work of art!

"My own personal laboratory." She replied happily. "I found it in my first year and cleaned it up. After that, it was child's play to ask some house elves to get me some spare cauldrons and desks from disused rooms. No one's found out since."

"Wait… house elves… HOUSE ELVES! Of course! Those pranks were helped by the house elves!"

She grinned evasively. "Well, not all of them. The pink hair, maggots, and glued rumps was purely me. The rest, I just had a little help. Ye'd be amazed how people think ye can't apparate in Hogwarts. Just ask an elf if yer on good terms with them and they'll let you silently pop over to wherever you want to go, cast a few jinxes and yer out before the beam even hit."

Fred and George looked at each other in awe. "GENIOUS!"

She smiled. "I thought ye'd say that. That's why I want to show you these."

She walked over to a wall and pressed against the edge of one of the bricks. The opposite edge popped out and she wiggled the brick out revealing the hollow interior. She reverently reached in and pulled out seven dusty journals. She placed each one down on a book stand and stood back as the twins examined them.

By the end of the first chapter of the first journal, the twins were enraptured. These were pranks beyond dreams. Mischief beyond the Marauders. Loopholes to every rule in the book and every possible rule that may be formed afterwards.

They practically salivated at a detailed map of Hogwarts without the person-location charms, but scrutinizing detail and more secret passageways and hidden rooms, doors, and hallways than the Marauders could have ever found.

"Yeh, think that's impressive?" They nodded enthusiastically. "That was week one of my first year here."

The twins visibly trembled at the prospect of the other six books. Each more complex and complete than the last.

They got down on their knees and began bowing. "We are not worthy, oh mighty Prankmistress. We are but mere novices, eager to understand your ways."

She laughed and got them to sit down at a table. Fred looked at her and had to ask. "Okay, what happened?"

She frowned in a moment of seriousness. "What do ye mean? 'What happened?' I'm just as clueless as you are."

"Well, the McGonagall we knew, the old one-"

"Oi! _Don't call me old_." She said dangerously.

"Right, right. Well, the… _adult_ McGonagall is the strictest teacher in the school. How did _you_, the prank-loving Mistress of Mischief, become the dragon-lady of Hogwarts?"

Minnie sagged a bit in shock. "Oh, Lord. Do I really become that way when I get older?" The twins nodded and she sat back down to stare in space.

Fred's gaze wandered to a few pictures poking out of the journal, he carefully opened the pages and looked at them. They were both clearly Albus Dumbledore. One had him with rich, auburn hair while he was still smiling and young. The other had him with white hair with some fading brown streaks and he already had several wrinkles aging his face at least fifty years.

"Oi. What happened to Dumbledore?" He asked. Minnie was broken out of her stupor to look at the photos before snickering.

"Well, the one where he has come color to his hair was taken at the beginning of my first year." She explained.

"And the second?"

She grinned. "The _end_ of my first year."

* * *

Minerva McGonagall lay down in her dormitory. Today was a pretty good day.

Ended the prank war? Check.

Gained new disciples in the way of discord? Check.

Had a nice relaxing bath? Check.

She settled down and thumbed through a small planner on her nightstand. It had her lesson plans laid out for her to follow for the rest of the year for each year group, if she had to stick around that long.

She grinned as she blew out the candle. She'd need her sleep after all. Tomorrow's her first day of teaching.

_And may God help them all_. She thought, smiling, as she drifted away to sleep.

* * *

All throughout the castle, almost every student woke up in a sudden cold sweat. Unsure of what it meant.

Save for a certain insect-like Divination teacher who rushed to her secret compartment to ensure her sherry supply was intact and immediately grabbed a spare M1 Helmet (just in case).

* * *

AN: I don't own "Henry the Eighth", I don't actually know the song to be honest. It was just the only one I could find with the possibility of endlessly repeating verses given the "second verse same as the first."

I don't own "Living in the Sunlight, Loving in the Moonlight." For those of you who look it up and wonder 'where have I heard that before?' think all the way back to Spongebob's first episodes. Remember "That smell. A kind of smelly smell. The smelly smell that smells… smelly..."

Dangit. After typing "smell" so many times, it doesn't seem like a word anymore.

Anyway, I love the Tiny Tim song, despite my preferences for not-at-all-jovial songs. Be sure to listen to one with the orchestra behind it. The "lyrics" one has that. The main one on youtube just has him and a ukulele. Honestly, the one with the orchestra too is a lot better.

I hope you enjoyed!

Until next time!

-Crow


	4. Chapter 4

This chapter is a bit of fluff and fun I had. I wondered what a younger McGonagall would've been like teaching.

I don't own Harry Potter, FMA, or HTTYD.

* * *

Minerva McGonagall woke up refreshed that morning and made her way down to the Great Hall.

"Good Mornin', everyone." She said cheerily. The entire hall stopped and looked at her as though she grew two heads. Hardly anyone in the Wizarding world was chipper in the morning.

She took a seat between the Weasley Twins and proceeded to butter a roll for herself. After a few minutes of enjoying her breakfast, Fred (she learned to distinguish them) grabbed her attention.

"So, what's got you in such a good mood? I didn't peg you for a morning person."

"Oh, Lord no. I hate mornin' with a passion. My da used to get me up early ta go over mornin' prayer since I was old enough ta say the words."

"Okaaaay… so, what's with the cheerfulness?"

"Oh, you'll see." She said with a smirk.

The rest of the great hall continued eating in its usual chatter. Then, when she finished with her own breakfast, McGonagall got up from her seat and strode to the doors. Just before she left, she turned to face the student and staff population and let out an ear-piercing whistle.

"Oi! Shut it!" All chatter ceased and they looked surprised at her. "I just wanted ta tell ya, I've finally gotten everythin' ready for my lessons. So Transfiguration lessons are back on."

She made to turn around, but stopped in a sudden thought. "Oh, and Madame Pomphrey? Prepare a couple beds."

She grinned at the stunned mediwitch and turned around, closing the door with her. The enchanted ceiling let out an ominous rumble of thunder in the dreading silence that swept over the tables.

* * *

Minnie strode down the hallways of Hogwarts on her way to her first class with the third year Gryffindor and Slytherin Houses.

"-stupid mudblood!"

She stopped in her tracks and quickly ducked behind a wall corner to observe what would happen. The daddy's boy blonde Slytherin was talking to a bushy-haired girl from Gryffindor.

"Honestly, my father would never let this place get so run down. Last year was the _best_ thing to have happened what with the Heir. It would've shown you lot your place!"

He folded his arms in self-granted superiority at the girl and was flanked by two of the gorilla Slytherins.

"Oi, what's goin' on here?" She made her presence known.

The blonde weasel quickly composed himself and looked politely at her. "Oh, nothing Professor McGonagall."

She glared daggers at him until his already pale face turned three shades paler. "Yeah right, and you can take that lie and shove it up yer arse." A couple students gasped. She rolled her eyes before continuing. "I heard everything ya "pureblooded" git. And let me tell ya, that whole "pureblood" and "mudblood" shite is such cock-and-bull I could fertilize every greenhouse in Hogwarts with it. I know plenty of muggleborns who were just as brilliant as purebloods and I've met plenty of purebloods who were dumb as nails."

The blonde git's pale face gained a faint tinge of pink as he looked like he wanted to say something, but held his tongue in the face of her authority.

She kept rolling. "And I'll have ya know my da was a muggle and look how I turned out. So go about insultin' halfbloods and muggleborns and know you'll be facin' me afterwards. Am I understood? Good. Now apologize to this young woman."

The pureblood kept glaring at her, but turned to the bushy-haired Gryffindor girl and mumbled out "I'm sorry, Granger."

The girl, Ms. Granger, let out a louder, though awkward. "I accept your apology, Malfoy."

Minnie watched as he skulked away, but not far enough before she heard him rather loudly mutter "Mudblood."

There was a bright flash and a loud squeak. The class looked around and found where Draco Malfoy once stood was a small white-haired ferret.

McGonagall waved her wand in a complicated fashion before touching it to the flagstones. Arcs of blue electricity flew across the floor towards the ferret. A cage quickly formed from the flagstones around the scrambling rodent before completing itself, leaving behind a small crater of missing material around it.

One redheaded Weasley stared awestruck at the cage. "Wicked!"

McGonagall was rather pleased with herself. "Why thank ya."

A black-haired, bespectacled Gryffindor looked at it curiously. "What kind of magic was that?"

"It's a… different form of Transfiguration. I won't go into details, but let's just say I did learn a thing or two from Van Hohenheim in my studies."

She walked towards the cage and picked it up eyeing the cowering ferret inside. She turned around to find Ms. Granger gaping at her and sputtering incomprehensibly. Minnie could tell she was conflicted between enjoying the git in the cage and probably the rules against it.

Eventually, the girl managed to find enough voice to start speaking. "P-Professor! Teachers aren't allowed to transfigure students for punishment!"

"Well that's too bad. I just did."

"B-but- but-"

"Ms. Granger, I have given disciplinary action. That is all."

Minerva smiled and swaggered off to the Transfiguration wing with Draco scrambling in his stone cage.

She waited at her desk and watched as everyone trickled in before the final bell tolled. Once everyone was situated, she got up and addressed everyone.

"Okay, I won't take roll call this time, so anyone missin' out will miss out of all the _fun_. Now, please leave everything but your wands in the room. It will be locked so don't worry about thieves." She strode out of the room leading a bunch of confused and, slightly, terrified class with her.

The students followed the attractive professor to the Quidditch pitch. The first thing they noticed was a large gate-like mechanism where the entrance to the showers and lockers used to be.

Minnie turned to address everyone and spoke loudly for them to hear. "Okay. Now, today we will be learning to Transfigure already-transfigured teapots back to teapots. The wand movements are rather simple." She went on to the more technical aspects of the spell. After a few tries she was confident they had it down.

"Okay, ye wee bairns-"

The redheaded loudmouth protested. "Oi, don't call us that. You're not much older." A few others nodded and mumbled in assent. The 16-year-old teacher looked them over and smirked.

"Well, okay then. Tell me, if yer so manly, do ya know what to do with this?" She struck a pose that had every girl gasping and a few boys blushing (one shamefully and desperately trying to clot a nosebleed). Minerva laughed at the expected reactions before taking a more natural stance. "Like I said, right now yer _wee bairns_ and don't deserve a better title. Besides," She looked back flirtingly, "I'm not interested in younger men."

She turned around, leaving blushing 13-year-old-barely-pubescent male students mind-sputtering in her wake. She set down the stone cage with Draco-the-Ferret and unlatched the hood. The transfigured ferret immediately ran out and bounded up to a Slytherin girl who picked him up.

Ignoring the attempts of the girl to request he be changed back, Minerva continued. "Now, does everyone remember the spell? Good. Now, I've set up a little challenge with some winged teapots. You're job will be to transfigure them back into teapots without smashing them. Alright?" She walked to the door mechanism and grasped the lever.

Nott protested. "Wait! Aren't you going to tell us how to defend ourselves?"

The rest of the Slytherins, Draco-the-Ferret, and a few of her "brave" Gryffindors nodded. She noted that a few of the squeaks from Draco-the-Ferret sounded suspiciously like "my father". She grinned at them, sending chills down their spines.

"In the words of my favorite uncle Gobber, 'I believe in learnin' on the job.'"

With that, she pulled the lever and the gates burst open, releasing thousands of transfigured teapots angrily attacking the students. The class scrambled to avoid the jets of boiling tea and suicidal teapots aiming to smash on people's heads. Draco-The-Ferret was knocked out of the girl's hands and proceeded to scramble around in a panic.

She calmly surveyed the scenes before casting a quick _sonorous_. "Okay, so what's the first thing ya need?"

"A wand?"

"A sane teacher?"

"New underwear?"

"A shield?" A Gryffindor, Longbottom if she remembered right, said.

"Correct! Ten points to Gryffindor. A shield is essential in a fight. If you have to choose between a sword or a shield, take the shield!"

Several people started casting _protegos_ and a few more creative ones transfigured some teapot remains into a porcelain shield. She silently awarded a few dozen points to them. She watched as, one-by-one, her transfigured teapots were re-transfigured back into harmless teapots. A few of them came smashing to the ground when their wings were removed, but she had expected a few _reparos_ after the lesson.

Soon, every teapot was taken care of. She glanced around and saw Draco-the-Ferret being viciously attacked by a really, tiny creamer. Pointing her wand at him, he swirled in place and a dazed Malfoy was back. The spoiled Slytherin angrily crushed the creamer under his foot before rounding on her.

"How is this supposed to help?! You almost killed me! My father will hear about this!" He whined.

Again, she rolled her eyes. "My mentor taught me that if ya can transfigure in a dire situation, ya can transfigure at yer own leisure. What ya can do on the battlefield is second nature in the calm of yer livin' room. Now, ye have some extra defense practice, and ya can fix a magical tea set for whenever ya have company."

He glowered at her before muttering darkly. "My father will still hear about this."

She glared right back, effectively silencing his own, pitiful-by-comparison look. "By all means, tell him. But be grateful, my mentor taught me that trick using flyin' knives. And my Uncle Gobber? He lives with some Vikings out in Berk, training dragons! Imagine having him as yer mentor and 'learnin' on the job'."

The class collectively shuddered. Satisfied with her work, she turned and made her way towards the castle. "Don't forget yer homework! A foot of parchment about undoing transfigurations by Friday! Oh!"

She turned around in a sudden thought. "And I'd recommend brushing up on some medical magic for next lesson. Lord knows yer gonna need it. The only thing I'm tryin' to decide is whether to use fire-breathing teapots or life-sized glass dragons next time."

The class paled and she continued on her way to her office for some lunch. Behind her, Ron Weasley turned to Harry Potter. "Life-sized dragons?! Can you imagine?!"

"I'd prefer not to. I imagine going up against a dragon is terrifying." Harry replied.

Hermione made a scoff. "Oh, honestly you two. It's impractical to even contemplate it. When are any of us going to have to face a dragon?"

* * *

Ludo Bagman sneezed violently at his desk. He blinked away the sinus-induced headache and kept working on plans for the TriWizard Tournament next year.

* * *

Deep in the bowels of Gringotts the guard dragon sneezed, releasing a torrent of flame, almost roasting a couple of goblins and burning away a good five inches off the hair of Lucius Malfoy, who had the misfortune of deciding to go down to his vaults at that exact time.

* * *

Later that afternoon, Oliver Wood walked down to the Quidditch pitch with his broom in hand, eager to try out a few things before he finished up his last year at Hogwarts.

He stopped dead as he took in the sight of thousands of teapot fragments littered across the destroyed field. Dirt was hastily erected into large shields and the grass was completely destroyed by scuff marks and scorched by spellfire. The entrance to the locker rooms was partially blocked by two large doors and the shower room inside was destroyed by the angry, contained teapots.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

* * *

AN: Like I said, I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or How To Train Your Dragon, but I had a lot of fun putting them in.

Enjoy!

-Crow


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Hey, just a warning, there's religious themes briefly mentioned. Also, kind of dark compared to the rest of the fic, but a part of the story I've wanted to put in for a while.**

**I've been gone for so long. So many fics are stagnant. I'm hopeful this will get me going again. Get me writing again. It's not a lot and it's not uber-high-quality, but I like how it turned out.**

**In the meantime, please enjoy.**

**Sincerely,**

**-Crow**

**P.S. I've never actually been to England, so cut me some slack. Thank you.**

* * *

The next few weeks were relatively quiet.

Well…

"Quiet" is a relative term anyway. I mean, there's always noise in the background, but it gets faded to white-noise after a while. The whir of a fan motor, the chirping of birds, the sound of cars on a motorway, your own heartbeat in your ears.

The varied miscellaneous bangs, shrieks, explosions, and war-cries of whatever happened whenever Miss Minerva McGonagall decided she was bored.

Stuff like that.

Anyways, the week or so after her initial 'lesson' had been met with a lot of opposition. First off, the Malfoy kid had gone to his father, who came to Hogwarts and demanded a 'better instructor or environment' (though the intimidation had lost its effect with his patchy, singed haircut). Coupled with irate Quidditch Captains and Madame Hooch (with the Gryffindor captain quite literally foaming at the mouth), she was restricted to teaching in her own classroom.

Now, this tactic limited her destructive chaos to the limited size of her classroom.

On the other hand; it limited her _entire destructive chaos_ to the limited size of her _one classroom_.

Thankfully, none of the walls had exploded yet, but it had been a close call several times. Her students couldn't have a Battle of the Teacups again like before, but she compensated with other ways; forks, spoons; tea cozies; clocks; and (once) the leftovers of dinner from the night before. Needless to say, the house elves had their work cut out for them and students were a lot less wasteful in meals.

Though somehow, the entire student body got the feeling this was a calm-before-the-storm scenario.

These last few days, she had been seen catching up on Muggle Studies with Professor Burbage and talking to Gryffindor muggleborns at mealtimes about mundane things.

Hermione Granger was especially concerned when she was asked about leather jackets.

* * *

A welcome weekend rolled around for Hogwarts students. Especially as this weekend was one of the few weekends available to go to the all-magical wizarding town of Hogsmede. Older students went in anticipation of dates, drinks, and the like, younger students were swept up with all of the talk from older students and First and Second Years were envying Third years who were spreading out rumors of Honeydukes, The Three Broomsticks, and the Shrieking Shack.

Minerva McGonagall, age 16 to 17 (thereabout), sat in her classroom, gazing absently out the window into the courtyard where students were already being corralled around by Filch and the tiny form of Flitwick. Now, being a teacher, she had the leeway of coming and going whenever she pleased (granted she had no other obligations), but this one had a certain specialty to it; if only a certain delivery would make it.

There!

Her head snapped up as a tiny speck in the distance got closer and closer to her window. She threw open the glass panes as a tawny owl swooped in with a broad, flat package. She quickly paid the owl a couple knuts and tore the package open.

"Oh, aren't you a beauty?" she murmured, pulling out a shiny, slim, black leather jacket. She went over to a mirror in the room and pulled it on, twisting and turning this way and that to see how it looked. She sent her measurements to a store that had connections with the muggle world and delivered wizard-style.

She went back to the box and pulled out several more outfits. Choosing a set, she quickly changed into a shirt with short sleeves she heard called "Tee-Shirts" and a set of "blue jeans". She had seen people in farm areas with denim overalls, but was impressed with how casually people these days wore them. _Girls_ even! Lord knows, her grandmother, both muggle and magical, would keel over seeing a girl's ankles, let alone wearing pants!

Tossing the jacket over it all completed the look. A dark, grungy-colored 'rock band' T-shirt with jeans and some nice-looking black shoes (none of those artsy-fartsy heels girls would wear). She smirked as she set a pair of black 'sun glasses' on her face.

"Alright. Time ta 'rock n' roll'." She quipped gleefully.

"Professor?"

She turned around so fast her hair almost whipped the glasses off. Standing in the doorway were her two disciples of discord, the Weasley Twins. "Ah, it's you."

"Er, not really?" Fred admitted. He was parted by a determined-looking Hermione Granger, who stopped dead in her tracks seeing her supposed 'teacher' dressed like she was about to walk into a biker bar.

"Wha- Who… I mean…" She sputtered.

"Ah, Miss Granger, how can I help you?" McGonagall asked politely, as though she weren't dressed to kill. "I imagine ya ought be quick 'bout it, too. Carriages are due for Hogsmede any minute now."

That got through. "Professor! I came to ask a question on the essay, but I have found myself with so many more that I can't _begin_ to ask them!"

"Ah, then best we forget about it and go on with our days, yeah?" She said getting ready to sidestep them out the hallway.

"_That's_ why you've been asking around like that!" The Gryffindor bookwork exclaimed, cutting her off. "You're sneaking out to the muggle world!"

"Am not." Minerva replied, acting affronted. "I am a Professor, I don't have to 'sneak' at all!" She smiled rather smugly at the Granger girl deflating so rapidly.

"Well you shouldn't!" The girl argued. "Your knowledge of the muggle world is almost half a century outdated. You could get into a lot of trouble for that kind of rule-breaking."

"Well, seeing how Muggle Studies still think everyone works on a horse-and-buggy (which I _know_ isn't true anymore), I'd imagine lots of wizards go about half-cocked in the muggle world." She replied, holding up the Muggle Studies textbook on her desk.

"Be that as it may," Hermione acquiesced, wincing, "I cannot allow you in good conscience to just go galivanting around London looking like a… a… um…"

"A _what_, Ms. Granger," McGonagall asked in a mind-your-next-move tone.

"Well… um…" Hermione fumbled, getting redder and redder with each passing second.

George took pity on her, "What she means is that most muggles don't really dress like that anymore. So, you're going to get a lot of attention. Like the bad kind of attention. Bad _men_'s attention."

Minerva flicked back her hair. "Well, I'm sure I can handle meself in a fight," She twirled her wand, releasing a couple red sparks in the process. "I'm a proud Scotswoman, remember?"

"Yes, but-"

"Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley, I appreciate your concern. Well, not really, but you get the idea," She remarked off-handedly. "But you are not in charge of whether or not I go out as I see fit and seein' as I've got proper muggle clothing… well, ya can't go mucking around London in _robes_, I know that much." She said, pointedly eyeing the three's school robes.

Fred and George shared a quick look. "Wait here," Fred said quickly before dashing off behind his brother.

Hermione let out an explosive sigh, "I still can't allow you to go running around the muggle world without knowing what you're up against. You could get caught! You could break the Statute of Secrecy! You could go to Azkaban! You could die! Or worse, lose your teaching position!"

"Worse?"

The younger girl blushed heavily upon realizing what she just said. Minerva heard her mumble something about first year under her breath.

"Well, if that will be all-"

"But we aren't allowed outside school boundaries," She protested once more.

"Teacher." Minerva sent one last smug smile as she walked passed the thoroughly defeated Gryffindor. The wind knocked out of her sails completely with that simple fact.

She quickly took out a set of baggy robes from her side-bag and slipped them over her muggle clothing. Her sleek, black shoes still clacked against the floor, but with the hem of her robes hiding the upper part, no one would tell they weren't wizard-made.

She rounded a corner to the main hallway just before the entrance hall.

"Minnie! Wait!"

She turned to see Fred and George running up to her. As they caught their breath, she took in their appearance. Both twins were wearing cloth jackets with a gray, metallic zipper down the middle, but what caught her attention was a hood lying back with two strings going through like a drawstring bag. Fred wore a dark green while George wore a dark blue. Both wore the same blue jeans, though slightly baggier than her more form-fitting pair, and both wore black and white "converse" shoes, as she'd learnt from causal muggleborn-wear.

George spoke first. "W-we want in!" he panted out.

Fred nodded, "Y-yeah, w… *cough* we're gonna… gonna come with you… *huff* whether you like it or not. *huff*!"

She coolly regarded them.

"Kay."

She turned and smirked as she started walking away.

"Wait! That's it!?"

She turned back and saw their slack, astonished faces. "Yep!"

"No groveling?"

"Nope."

"No arguing?"

"Nuh-uh."

"No 'you're-too-young'-"

"Or 'you're-going-to-get-in-trouble'-"

"Or 'it's-illegal'-"

"Or 'it's-irresponsible'-"

"Or 'it's-an-affront-to-nature,-the-laws-of-science,-and-God'?"

"Nope."

"Just like that?"

She thought for a moment, "Well, there is one catch." She quickly silenced the groan with a malicious stare-down. "That quick run left you far too winded for my tastes. The second we get back, we are going to be discussing fitness."

They gulped.

"Hard… grueling… Scotsman… fitness…"

They fought to maintain bladder continence.

"… McGonagall-style."

Their souls withered a little.

"Wait!"

The three turned to see Hermione Granger sprinting up as well, her two friends Potter and the younger Weasley boy in tow. The girl wore a nice light-purple blouse with a gray knit-cardigan for the cold weather and a pair of jeans.

The other two were a different story.

Potter wore jeans that had seen better millennia given the holes and wear and his shoes had sole flaps barely holding on with tape, glue, and chewing gum. The Tee-shirt looked like it had been used as a mop-up rag twice in its lifetime and the flannel shirt over it had threads coming out at the seams. Not to mention every article of clothing was at least five sizes too large for the boy's tiny, lithe frame. The pants themselves were held up with a black leather belt that wrapped almost twice around his waist.

The younger Weasley had a pair of blue jeans (she suspected they were common-enough that even purebloods caught on), but his sneakers were mismatched eyesores with a hole in the big-toe area. He had a violently-red sweater with knit-in patterns that were obviously winged snitches, bludgers, broomsticks, and owls. Add to a big purple "R W" on the back just added to the whole monstrosity. The boy might as well have worn a sandwich board saying 'look-at-me-I'm-not-muggle!'.

Granger either didn't notice their clothes, or pretended very, _very_ hard she didn't notice, as she continued talking. "It would be irresponsible of you to go alone, even as a teacher. Plus, I have some things I meant to pick up in Muggle London over the holidays."

Ronald and Potter finally caught up with Ron gaping incredulously (and enviously) at the Twins, "And where did you get those?!"

The twins leaned against one-another in pose. "Ah, dear brother-"

"-What kind of pranksters would we be-"

"If we didn't pop into the muggle world every once in a while."

"Or once a month."

"Or week."

"We always carry a set of muggle clothing-"

"In case we want a quick nip in the town."

"Or the city."

"Or Manchester."

"When the bloody hell did you two go to Manchester!?" Ron exclaimed.

"Language, Ickle Ronniekins."

"And we went last summer, as a matter of fact."

"Where do you think we learnt to drive the Angelina?"

"Muggle cabbies in the city are very friendly to out-of-town country boys like us."

"Even showed us the clutch."

"… Mum would be furious with you." Ron eventually managed.

"_Oh, definitely_," They both synchronized, grinning like cats.

"I like yer style." Minerva replied, smirking. She turned to the tagalong third years, "Are you two coming?"

They both nodded. She pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow, "Okay, _you_ I can understand, seeing as you're pureblood." She pointed to Ron, gesturing up and down at his sweater. He blushed to his ears furiously and mumbled.

She shifted her finger to the shorter one, "You, I heard lived with muggles, so what's with the piss-poor muggle stuff?"

He blushed too, but more from shame than embarrassment or anger, "M-my relatives aren't big spenders on me, so these were my cousins'."

"Ah, money a bit tight?" She asked.

He didn't answer and just shrugged noncommittally. Minerva's eyes narrowed.

A fierce, firm voice in the back of her head kept nagging her about something. She felt this was wrong somehow, but she'd never even met these people. How could-

"_The worst sort of muggles!_"

She blinked, forcing her eyes to suddenly readjust to the present. She had to blink a few more times to clear the cobwebs from her head, but she couldn't place the sharp, distinct tone of that voice even though it was painfully familiar.

"Professor?"

She turned to Hermione who seemed to notice the pause. Without a word, Minerva waved her wand in the two boy's direction and the clothes on Ron changed into a passable muggle sweater jacket and shirt while Harry's shrank to fit him and the rips and stains magically vanished as well. Ron squirmed and fidgeted in the unfamiliar muggle style while Harry seemed wide-eyed and appreciative.

"Now, that's not permanent, but it'll last the day, I reckon." Minnie said confidently, then pointed her wand like a lance to the entrance hall, "Now, then, onward! Daylight's a-wastin'!"

"Wait!" Harry suddenly cried, "I don't have my permission slip!"

"Well, how did ya expect to get to Hogsmede then?"

He pulled out his invisibility cloak. Recognizing it, she had a glint in her eye, but just ushered him to put it on and keep moving.

They made it as the last of the students were being put in the last few carriages. As it rumbled down the gravel road, they felt a distinct chill in the air as they exited the gates. Potter, especially seemed to shiver violently even under the invisibility cloak.

They dispersed briefly for an hour to meet at a pub in the back-alleys of Hogsmede called the Hogshead. The third-year trio excitedly started exploring the shops available while the Twins immediately headed towards Zonko's. Minnie ambled around, recognizing most of the buildings and making note of a few new ones.

The somber bell of Hogwarts tower eventually tolled the hour and she made her way to the pub. She was pleased that her Twins had already made it and almost thought the third-year Trio had gotten too caught up in the town's sights before they emerged in an alley and headed to the group.

Walking in, she spotted the aged bartender who grunted in acknowledgement of the unusually large crowd of students walking in (the usual crowd being zero). Minnie put down a whole galleon on the counter and said clearly, "Floo powder, sir."

He stared her down for a second before grunting with a low, "Nothing illegal?"

"S'far as ya know." Was her curt reply. His mouth quirked in what _might_ have been a shade of a smile before side-nodding to a shabby fireplace hidden around the corner. "Powder's in the stein."

Minnie opened the dusty, chipped Ale stein on the mantle and poured out a decent amount of glittering Floo Powder. She divvied it up among them and clearly said "Leaky Cauldron" before entering the emerald flames.

She emerged from the other side gracefully. The Twins and Ronald following shortly after. Potter stumbled out and landed on his rear, dizzily looking about. Finally, Granger came in almost as graceful as Potter did. She looked torn between terrified and fascinated by the new method of travel.

"'Ello, there." The barman, Tom, said cautiously. He saw a couple kids tumble out of his Floo system. A couple of kids who ought to be in school, too.

Minnie sensed this and sent her best smile, "Hello, sir, don't worry they're all with me. Official Hogwarts business." She showed him her new teaching license. While surprised, Tom recognized a genuine article when he saw it after all his years working in the pub. He nodded hastily and waved them out the Muggle Entrance.

They exited the pub's threshold and looked out at Muggle London.

Minerva McGonagall was a headstrong young woman, but nobody could fault her for her sudden wide-eyed gaping. A car was a rarity in her time, particularly way out in rural Scotland. Here, sleek cars and massive trucks rumbled by with people of every color, shape, and size walking beside them. Shops had bright lights and posters the likes of which she hadn't seen in her childhood.

Her Muggle London was still getting back together from the War. Her Muggle London had radios and whispers of a device called television. Her Muggle London was (relatively) still rather quiet.

This was practically a 5-ring circus compared to her time!

"Oh, Lordy," She moaned under her breath. "I just made meself feel old."

She pulled the jacket closer around her and stiffened her back and neck confidently as she walked down the sidewalk. She deferred to Miss Granger's expertise on navigating the Muggle World. Surprisingly, Mr. Potter was lacking in that department and seemed almost as overwhelmed and unfamiliar as herself or the Weasleys. He explained on the way that he'd never really gotten out of his small town in Whales all too often.

They caught a larger-than-normal cabbie car from the street and had to squeeze together to fit in. The cab driver didn't raise an eyebrow at the kids, seeing as it was a weekend. "Where to?"

Minnie grinned, "Oh, well, we're from a ways out, ya see. First time to London, wanted ta look around. Any suggestions?"

The man smiled understandingly, "Ah, s'alright. How 'bout the London Eye, eh? Get a view of the whole city from the top, you can. I'll go the scenic route, too, howsabout?"

"Perfect."

He took a leisurely pace through London, pointing out several landmarks and historical buildings as they passed by. Minerva recognized most of them, as London's layout hadn't changed much, but marveled at the enormous glass structure of the Spire when they passed by.

They finally made it to the London Eye which was one of the most enormous Ferris Wheels she'd ever seen. A fair that once roamed by her hometown had a much, much smaller version by comparison.

They rode it, Potter and the Twins getting the most fun out of it standing at the window and looking down, while Miss Granger nervously stiff as a board and trying desperately not to look down as she clutched the sides of the car.

They went around a few more times before deciding to wander. They found a movie theater and managed to sneak in using Minerva's UnTraced wand. She was blown away by the effects of the film and the quality and color before they saw a man with a flashlight start lumbering towards them and beating a hasty exit.

They wandered through several shops and department stores. Hermione bought (surprise!) many books about muggle material and some muggle fantasy novels she admitted to miss in the primarily non-fiction Hogwarts Library. The Twins got a hoot out of the simpler muggle prank items and whispered among each other how great it would be to 'magic' them. Minerva (being the utterly responsible and absolutely trustworthy licensed Professor) made sure to be just out of earshot whenever they talked about a whoopee cushion or rubber chicken.

Ronald Weasley loaded up on a couple of muggle sweets, finding something called a Mars Bar to be delicious. Harry Potter didn't seem to go after anything in particular. He mostly browsed around contentedly and quietly, choosing to tag along with Ron or Hermione whenever possible.

Minnie couldn't shake off the bad feeling there.

She, herself, bought a pair of… *ahem* suggestive unmentionables from the lady's department. The kind from stores where she thoroughly enjoyed the indignant gasp from Miss Granger when she saw the bag logos and the awkward blushes from the boys when Hermione explained what the store was.

She also picked up several fake piercings from a "punk" store that had images, articles, and displays that would have had her father, mother, grandfather, and any magical-raised family fainting at the sight of. She would've splurged for the real thing, but didn't have the time… for this trip.

As they left, Minerva's UnTraced wand shrunk the bags and packages for them again. They stopped at a few more shops before Hermione insisted they grab a coffee from a nearby café. At first, the wizard-raised and de-aged professor grimaced at her enthusiasm, remembering coffee as a bitter, gritty drink meant mostly for manly, burly farmers or workers.

She could probably cast a patronus charm just from the memory taste of her caramel-mocha cappuchino with cream and vanilla.

Ronald Weasley just thought it was revolting.

The last place they visited was Saint Paul's Cathedral.

The pureblooded boys were struck silent as they stood around the crowd and looked around the guilded cathedral. Even Minerva had to take a moment. Compared to her father's simple chapel in the moors, this was infinitely more opulent and detailed than anything she'd ever seen, even in Hogwarts.

A few things were the same, or at least very similar, and she recognized certain catholic images or symbols or items, bringing a wave of faint nostalgia. And slight anxiety.

They caught the back of a passing tour guide explaining the history of the cathedral and Hermione listened raptly, interested by the new knowledge. The rest seemed to just be looking around.

"Oi, Georgie," Fred grinned. The other twin leaned in and Minerva listened in, too. "Isn't it ironic? These Christians and whatnot going on with the whole 'thou shalt not permit a witch to live' nonsense and they don't even know we're right under their noses."

George snickered.

Minerva… frowned.

"Hey," She gathered her group together away from the tour. "Let's start heading out. Not feeling up to staying in this stuffy old church too long." She was already walking towards the enormous entrance doors.

They let themselves be led out of the cathedral and down the walkways back to Charing Cross.

"Wow!" Potter exclaimed on the way, "That was really fun! I've never actually gotten to _see_ London before!"

"What about visiting Diagon Alley or Kings Cross?" Hermione asked.

Harry shrugged, "Well, when I went with Hagrid to the Alley, we didn't exactly stick around the muggle world too long. Outside that, I either Flooed, took the Knight Bus, or was in Mr. Weasley's magical car. I didn't really ever get to seeing much of actual London."

Hermione huffed, but smiled, "Yes, it was rather nice to get out like this. Even if we could get in a _lot_ of trouble for it." She pointedly looked at Minerva who shrugged it off like water.

"_Well we think it's brilliant!_" The Twins chorused.

A low, reverberating tone echoed across the streets and cut through traffick. Big Ben tolled the half-hour. 4:30.

Minnie's eyes widened, "Oh, haggis on a stick! Hogsmede is closing up! We need to hurry."

They rushed back to the Leaky Cauldron, Tom barely getting to nod at them before they used the complimentary Floo Powder to get to the Leaky Cauldron.

As they tumbled out, Madame Rosemerta glanced up in surprise as she wiped off one of the last tables of some students' mess.

"Professor business." McGonagall panted out, flashing her license and rushing out the door. They groaned as they watched the last of the carriages rumble off into the darkness towards the castle.

"Oh, no!" Hermione wailed. "Now what are we going to do!? This is awful! We're going to be expelled for sure!"

"Calm down, girl!" Minnie barked, "We'll go on foot. This'll count as yer fitness, by the way." She added to the Twins, who looked sullen.

She started marching determinedly towards the roads, with Hermione protesting about something behind her. The autumn twilight was closing in fast, so they'd be stranded in the dark if they didn't hurry.

As they neared the gates, she felt a chill around her and pulled her coat around herself tighter.

"We shouldn't be here." Granger whimpered quietly. Beside her, Ronald was nodding nervously, but Mr. Potter seemed to be almost dazedly trying to keep up. It confused her, he had been just fine in the pub, what changed?

"Professor!"

She heard Granger shriek as she pointed to something at the edge of the road. A tall, cloaked figure with a hood obscuring an inky, black void.

A dementor.

How could she have forgotten about the Patrol?

Potter's shivering turned violent as his eyes glazed over in fear at the entity slowly gliding towards them. Frost started covering the grass and trees, with the lesser plant life withering before her eyes in the creature's foul aura.

"S-stay back!" She ordered, trying to keep hold of herself. She positioned herself between the students and the _thing_. She was a Professor, after all. "I am a Professor of Hogwarts and you will listen to me!"

She held up her wand threateningly but the being did not falter.

"E-Expecto Patronum!" She cried. Her wand tip spouted a few wisps of faint, white smoke.

"Expecto Patronum!" A wispy puff. Her hand was getting numb.

"E-Expecto… Expecto Patronum." Not even wisps.

"E.. Expecto.."

_Hold her!_

_I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry!_

_Don't! Please! Stop!_

"E-Expecto Pat- Pa- Pa."

_Papa._

_Don't_

_'We ask your forgiveness in our trespasses and transgressions.'_

Grass blades around her feet blackened. Potter fainted.

_'We ask for guidance'_

_Please Stop! You're hurting me!_

_I'm sorry!_

_'Cleanse evil from your child in your name'_

"Expecto…"

_What are you doing!?_

_No, get back!_

_Stop it! Stop it!_

_'As we renounce Satan and all his lies'_

She felt creature's rattling breath across her neck.

She couldn't breathe. The air was tainted with sickness.

_'We ask you to cleanse her of evil'_

_'We rid her of the sickness in her body and soul'_

_Why?!_

_Papa! Look!_

_"Not natural!"_

_What _are_ you?_

"Expecto Patronum!"

The dark was illuminated with blinding light. The despair was torn away, shrieking into the woods.

Several figures started swarming towards them from the gates. One kept talking, but the world kept getting darker.

"Hold on."

"Hold on."

_'In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti'_

It hurt so much. The world faded out.

_'Amen.'_

* * *

**AN: I may have laid it thick there, but I like how it turned out.**

**I am neither catholic nor British (properly), nor have I been to London, so if there are inaccuracies, please forgive them or tell me in a review. Thank you.**


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